


Merrily Merrily

by EternalFangirl



Category: SHAKESPEARE William - Works, The Tempest - Shakespeare
Genre: Ariel is a big baby, Colin Morgan - Freeform, Gen, He deserves a happy ending, OFC - Freeform, Original Female Character - Freeform, The Globe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalFangirl/pseuds/EternalFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Ariel knew the meaning of the word, he would know he was lonely. If he knew how many centuries had passed since his master freed him, he would feel the weight of them. Nothing had changed on his island for hundreds of years…</p>
<p>Until one day something did.</p>
<p>Rhearn didn’t even know how she had reached this ruddy island. All she knew was that the little cottage she was in seemed to be magical, like the Room of Requirement from Harry Potter. How did she keep discovering things she needed at the best possible moments?</p>
<p>Are you there, God? It’s me, Rhearn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shipwrecked Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> The name Rhearn means “magic maiden”. It suited too well for me to not use it. I think this might be the biggest first chapter I have ever written. I usually start with Prologues.

Ariel loved his island.

He was free now, free to flit around and play in the sun for as long as he wanted. He played all day, amusing himself by playing with the animals, prancing around with the deer and flying with the crows, tossing the waters surrounding his island high when he wanted to feel the water splash against him. He spent his night chasing embers sometimes, blowing them away and racing to catch them in his hands over and over. He sang to himself, and danced upon the clouds.

If he knew the meaning of the word, he would realize that he was lonely.

Years passed, then decades, then centuries. Ariel thought of his master often, and of his daughter. It had been too long since Caliban died, and there was no one else to keep Ariel company. But he still didn’t leave the island, for he was happy. Besides, he swam in the waters often.

Every blade of grass, every leaf on this island was known to him. He knew every sound there was to hear. Which is why the sobbing barely registered at first.

He paused in the middle of his swing from tree to tree, high up in the sky. Cocking his head to one side, he tried to listen again. Maybe it had been the ocean nearby. He listened, and no, that was definitely someone crying. Intrigued, all his senses alert, he flew to the coast in the blink of an eye.

It was a maiden.

He stared at her, surprised and excited in equal measure. She was drenched in seawater, on her knees, sobbing piteously. Ariel felt something akin to sympathy. Poor woman, she must be so scared! Ariel walked cautiously forward, but hid behind the very last tree before the sandy beach started. He was certain he would startle her. His master had known magic, and he hadn’t been as surprised to find a spirit in this world. He had said, though, that he had never met one before… So Ariel was just going to look. He wouldn’t want to anger the distressed maiden. What if she had magic?

He looked his fill, from the top of her golden head to the end of her tippy toe. She barely wore anything, it seemed–men’s breaches that stuck to her like a second skin and a shift that showed her naked arms and throat to an extraordinary degree. Ariel wondered if she was cold.

Wonderment shone in his face as he made himself disappear and walked closer. Perhaps he could conjure her a blanket. If she just found a blanket lying about on the ground, she wouldn’t be scared of him, would she? He nodded to himself. He just wanted the pretty girl to stop crying.

The blanket he conjured was a few meters away, white, warm and thick. But she wouldn’t look up. Ariel’s mouth formed a pout. But that just wouldn’t do! He made some random sound to her left, making her look at the blanket.

Her eyes were pretty. They were nothing like the eyes of his master’s daughter, which had been dark. The eyes of this welcome stranger were bright green, wet with the tears she had cried, and very pretty. They widened when she saw the blanket, and she scrambled to grab the blanket and snuggle in it. She looked like a ball of snow.

After a minute or so of rocking herself for comfort, the woman rubbed the back of her hand across her nose and boldly looked around. She was trying to find some help, he was certain.

Ariel wracked his brains to think of other ways to help her, but he couldn’t think of an easy way to just hand her food. How was she supposed to spend the approaching night on the beach? He wanted to help, he really did, but he couldn’t just conjure a hovel for her to stay in….

… He could take her to his master’s old cabin!

Ariel perked up, and he began to sing. Entranced, fascinated, the maiden followed him as he knew she would.

 

* * *

 

Rhearn had never been this scared in her life.

She was stuck on a remote island with no means of escape available, no one looking for her, and no idea how she was going to survive. She deserved to be a little scared, she thought.

Where was everyone? All she remembered was being on the cruise, with everyone else, trying to fend off Ace’s advances… Had he roofied her? Had she fallen overboard? She had spluttered awake in the water, realized she was drowning, and swam to the nearest shore. There was no sign of civilization at all, she had been here too long for it to be a prank, and she was fucking _scared_. Here she was, on what she assumed was some sort of an island, with only a mysterious warm blanket to her name. Her face scrunched up as she started to cry again.

The music that started out of nowhere startled her at first. She couldn’t understand what sort of instrument would make a sound like that–ethereal, almost other-worldly. The sweet tones swept into her, beating as one with her heart, and she realized all she wanted to do was hear more. She just wanted to keep listening to it. When it started to fade, she followed it, in a trance.

The music led her into the woods that lined the beach, but Rhearn wasn’t afraid at all. She needn’t be. All she needed to do was follow the music, and she would be just fine. Someone would find her.

She had no idea how long she stumbled around in the forest. All she knew was that her beloved music stopped running away from her. She could hear it up ahead, and she put on a surge of speed and ran into a little clearing, where there sat a tiny hut. The music faded away.

The music had been coming from the hut. How curious.

Too tired and bewildered to think about the music anymore, ecstatic at the prospect of shelter, hoping for a trace of humanity, Rhearn hurried inside.

“Hello? Excuse me, does someone live here?”

The hovel was empty. It seemed to be very old, something you would find on a period drama, a little cottage in the middle of the woods. Rhearn wondered if the three bears would mind her breaking and entering.

The cabin looked old because of the very old, crude wooden table and the old-fashioned fireplace. A doorway leads to what is presumably the bedroom. It is the most spartan cottage she has ever seen, but… But it didn’t have a single cobweb. Or dirt anywhere. How was that possible? Did someone really live here? In a place that definitely belonged to another century? She couldn’t discern anything about this place. Her gaze skittered over the simple kitchen and she felt miserable. There was no food or water, and the cold ocean wind was still keen enough to be felt.

She started moving towards the other room, intent on surviving the coming night. She hoped to find a bed and more warm blankets… Before she could walk through the doorway, she heard a tinkling, bubbling behind her, like a brook flowing through the kitchen. Running water? But there had been no taps…

It wasn’t until she saw the bowl of water that she realized how thirsty she was. How had she missed that bowl sitting so innocently atop the table? She must be more exhausted than she thought.

She knew it was the only water she had, but Rhearn still guzzled it all down in a hurry. Probably not the wisest way to spend her meagre supply, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was only once she had drunk it that she realized the water could have been days old, or even weeks old. Why hadn’t she thought of that before she had drank that? All she needed in this god forsaken place was a stupid, fatal infection because she had been too thirsty to use her brain cells.

If only there were some food too…

Rhearn decided to search the strange little cottage. It was a bit like the room of requirement from Harry Potter, wasn’t it? Giving her whatever she needed? Why not look for some dried fish or whatever before she wandered out in the encroaching darkness to search for fruits?

She did find food in a little cupboard, just not what she was expecting. The door had been a bit stuck, so she had tugged with all her might, and when it jerked open, a cornucopia of fruit had fallen out onto her. The apples, oranges and strawberries weren’t withered and dead like she expected. Instead, they were fresh and fragrant. She would have to pay through the nose for these if she was back in London.

What the fuck?

She had been kidding about the Room of Requirement thing. The universe knew that, right?

Ariel chewed his bottom lip nervously. Was the maiden happy? Did she not like fruits? He wanted her to be happy with his work, even though she couldn’t see him. He wanted to please her. She had stopped crying because of him. He was proud of that.

Was the food too little? How much had his master eaten? He had forgotten completely. The maiden sat with a lapful of fruit, she was still frowning at his offering. Would she like pineapples? Grapes? He could–

She threw her head back and laughed.

He brightened when he realized he had made her happy. He moved closer, silent and invisible, and watched her laugh. She laughed for a very long time, so long that by the end her breath was coming in great, big sobs and her shoulders shaking. Was she laughing? Or was she crying now? Ariel couldn’t tell. He pouted.

She sat there for a while, and he hopped from one toe to the other, wishing she would get up and see what he had done with the bed. He had piled it high with the finest furs to combat the cold. The pillows had been fluffed, and he had even conjured a clean cloth for her to dry herself with. He would dry her himself, but he didn’t want her to be afraid of him. He still remembered how confused people got when he used his qualities in an evident manner. He didn’t want her to leave. She was… different. He wanted her to like him.

She did get up eventually, and walked through to the bed chamber. He followed, leaping almost to the point of flying in his excitement. His gaze was on her face, and he thought the wonder and amazement on her face was good. It was, wasn’t it? She wasn’t disgusted. That meant she was happy with it. Oh, how he wished she would say something! His master always told him what he thought of his tricks, of his service. The maiden was just… silent.

 

* * *

 

Sweet baby Jesus.

Rhearn could have wept with joy when she saw the giant bed. All the aches and pains in her body suddenly made themselves known to her. Still munching the apple she had grabbed, Rhearn pressed her hand to the bed and put all her weight on it. It didn’t collapse. Happy with the structural integrity of the thing, Rhearn chucked the core to the corner of the room, used the coarse cloth lying on the top of the bed, and toed off her boots, ready for bed. The failing light of the setting sun was illuminating the room well, and she wanted to be asleep before the room went dark.

She thought once again of the three bears finding her, cross that she had eaten her hibernation stock. Or perhaps the seven dwarfs would find her. She started worrying again, fidgeting on the bed, tired but too worked up to go to sleep. What was she doing, simply accepting these random finds of hers? And was she just that lucky? To wash ashore, then find shelter, water and food in quick succession? Was she dreaming all this? Had Ace really put something in her drink?

Her breathing was starting to get out of control again. She tried to calm down.

The music started again.

Her startled yelp pierced the empty, dark room. It didn’t seem like the music was coming from outside. It felt like it was inside her own mind. What the hell?

Before she could worry about it, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	2. The rabbit and the toilet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you haven’t noticed, I sort of changed the rating for this story. It doesn’t feel right to sully my precious, dainty Ariel. Sorry if you were reading for the sullying!

Either Rhearn’s brain had completely disintegrated since coming to this island, or she lived in a sentient house.

 

She was quite certain she wasn’t crazy. But since that was exactly what a crazy person would say, she hesitated in her evaluation. Maybe it was the loneliness. She had never been the kind of person to have a gaggle of friends, preferring reading in the quiet shade to shopping with friends, but she still disliked being the only person on this island. There was no one else, as far as she knew. She had spent a lot of time looking for someone, anyone, but all she had found was a little rabbit who was so curious he nibbled at her foot and won her heart.

 

The next day she found carrots in one of the cupboards.

 

As Fiver happily munched on a carrot, Rhearn contemplated magic and sanity. Did she really live in a magical house? It had called her to itself, she was sure of it. Why was the house helping her. Could she ask it for a telephone as well? A boat? A raft? Even though the idea of being adrift on the ocean in nothing but a raft sounded like certain death to her.

 

She decided to start small.

 

“Um, hello?” she said, wondering if she should get on her knees. “Can you hear me, house? I was hoping to… um, Is it possible for me to open the door and step into a bathroom? With like, a working toilet?” She looked around, and hopped up to open the door from her room to the kitchen. Nothing. She frowned, wondering if there was a door out there somewhere, suddenly sprouted from the stone walls to lead her to a flushing toilet bowl. She ran around wildly, looking for it.

 

And realized a while later that the house had ignored her.

 

* * *

 

 

She wanted something from him.

 

Ariel wanted to help her, he really did. He wanted the maiden to be happy with his work, but how could he do her bidding when she used curious words and spoke of things he had never heard of? Ariel wanted to stamp his feet in desperation. What was a toilet, then? Oh, if only he could ask her.

 

In apology, Ariel made her beef marrow and fritters for dinner, with roast chicken and capon pasties.

 

She smiled when she saw the feast he had prepared. He hoped it meant she forgave him.

 

* * *

 

 

The house was old.

 

In fact, it was so old that it didn’t exactly understand the concept of a bathroom. She felt better than she had in the past thirteen days of her captivity as she understood her hovel a little better. She forgot to feel odd about thinking of her house as something sentient. It was. She knew it _was_.

 

She thought about describing a toilet. But what if she ended up flooding the only haven she knew in this godforsaken island? In the end, she decided that wiping her ass with soft leaves would have to do. Besides, if she wanted something better, she could always ask for more linen to rip into toilet paper.

 

What she needed to focus on was going back home.

 

“Um, hey,” she said one day. “I mean, um, good day to you. I was wondering if… Look, I come from a faraway place, house. I live in England. In London. I need to get back there. I have friends, family, who might be worried about me. No, scratch that, they are definitely worried about me. I need to get back. Do you have any ideas how? I doubt you know what a telephone is, so I won’t even ask you for one. But maybe a boat? A big one? Some way of getting off this island and back to civilization? Because, I tell you what, it’s coming to that time of the month, and I could kill someone for some chocolate. And something to wear that doesn’t stink like me.”

 

* * *

 

 

She wanted to leave him.

 

Ariel cried as he lay curled on the floor, his pretty face scrunched up and tear-strained. He had given her all that she had asked for--except that curious room she wanted. All that she desired, he could give her, but she just wanted to _leave_. Ariel thumped the floorboards with his fists. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t know what time of the month it was, and he didn’t know what chocolate was. He was a failure, and the pretty maiden didn’t like his efforts at all.

 

But he could get her a dress.

 

* * *

 

 

“Holy motherfucking shitfest!”

 

Rhearn was fairly certain the house did not want her to leave. There were dresses--beautiful, old-fashioned dresses--everywhere! The whole of the kitchen was filled with silk and the like, brilliant colors flashing in the light of the morning sun, hems flying in the breeze. They were all hanging from hooks she hadn’t noticed in the ceiling, and she ducked reflexively to avoid a flying hem.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

“Um, house? May I have a pair of scissors, please?”

 

* * *

 

 

She was crying again.

 

Ariel stamped his feet in frustration and willed her to speak. If she didn’t tell him what she wanted, how could he help? It had only been four days since she had asked for scissors and proceeded to cut away most of the skirts on the dresses he had made her. She had worn them after, but they were not weirdly shaped and showed way more skin than he was comfortable seeing. His master would have taken a belt to his daughter if she wore that. But his maiden still had several of clothes left, she couldn’t need more clothes. Was this about the chocolate again? He didn’t know what it was! She was just sitting there, sobbing into the rabbit’s fur. He felt miserable.

 

“I wish you could speak, house,” she sobbed suddenly. “I wish I had company.”

 

Oh.

 

She was _lonely_. Ariel hopped from one foot to the other, wondering what to do. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he looked very different from humans. Would she hate him if she saw him? Run away? He didn’t want her to go anywhere. But he didn’t want her sad either.

 

Apprehensive, hardly daring, he became visible. Her back was too him, he was just hovering there in a corner of the room. He decided against hovering after a second. It wouldn’t do well to scare her that much. Gathering his courage and a big breath, Ariel spoke.

 

“I _can_ speak.”

 

He saw her shoulders stiffen, making him insanely nervous, before she turned.

 

And screamed bloody murder.

 

Ariel covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, the noise worrying and hurting him. But it was gone in a moment. She had stopped.

 

* * *

 

 

She had a bloody, buggering, shagging guardian angel.

 

He--if it was indeed a he--looked beautiful, she could admit. Different, ethereal, but not dangerous, no. So, he had been the one to help her, to ask her to stay by giving her a fortune’s worth of silk dresses. He had made her a bed. With magic. Holy mother of God, he was a magical being.

 

Maybe she had gone crazy after all.

 

The most striking thing about him might have been his eyes. They were beautiful, a brilliant blue that shone unnaturally, the skin around them a deep pink blush that seemed unnatural in itself. He wore weird clothes, with a strange, feathery sort of top that stuck to him like second skin, and a pair of breeches surrounded by something she could only call a skirt. She loved his white boots.

 

She loved the white boots of an alien guardian-angel thingy that had probably being spying on her taking a bath. She needed help. Lots of help.

 

It was his expression that drew her in, though. He looked curious, and as scared and jittery as she felt. He was hunching in on himself, trying to make himself smaller than his impressive height. He was scared of her reaction. With that expression, her angel looked to be about twelve years old.

 

“Hello,” she said softly. “I am Rhearn.”

 

He looked at her curiously for a while, still nervous, as though he was surprised she was talking to him. Then his face split into a grin that felt too big for his sharp cheekbones to help him. “I am Ariel, my lady.”

 

When he bowed his head, Rhearn couldn’t help but smile at that beautiful voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time ever, I have copied this from my Google Drive and the formatting remained. I consider that a good sign. I have an announcement to make regarding the four month hiatus I am taking. Please read it [here](http://scribbling-away.tumblr.com/post/140196284464/official-admin-news-about-the-impending-hiatus). I WILL be back.


End file.
